No Name
by emrys-knight
Summary: I felt like, after that battle with Toomes in Homecoming, Peter should have been way more hurt. This is what would have happened. I stay as within canon as I could, considering everything lol. Hope y'all enjoy!


Peter watched over the wreckage, dying inside as the firetrucks and ambulances rolled up, putting out the raging flames and medically aiding Toomes, freeing him from the restraint Peter had put him in.

"Mr. Stark is gonna kill me for taking his plane down," He waited for a moment before it clicked. "Oh. Right. No Karen... I miss Karen."

He grabbed at his stomach as the pain throbbed even harder, making him groan. His breathing picked up, uneven and painful. He tried to stand, to go home and lay down, because, dammit, he missed his bed. He stumbled a little, stopping to allow his feet to properly stick to the metal, giving himself some stability. Once he did, he started to slowly walk again before falling, rolling down the tracks, and off onto the concrete below. His chest heaved as he struggled to bring oxygen to his starving lungs as the fall winded him, driving the air from his lungs. He balled his fists, hitting the concrete under him, breaking the surface with every blow.

He was almost happy. Not at the pain or the chewing out he was gonna get from Tony for the plane, but he could let his feelings really and truly happen. He could hit that concrete as hard as he could. He could let his panic and fear do what they would. Normally, if he were angry, he'd have to push some of it down as not to break anything if he were angry enough to punch something. If he were in pain, he couldn't squeeze someone's hand like everyone else. He'd crush it. He couldn't grab onto anything and squeeze to let some of that feeling go because he'd destroy whatever he took hold of. But now… oh, not now. He beat into the concrete, letting all of his strength go, creating deep cuts into his fists. He didn't care. He just sighed with relief at the ability to grab onto one of the roller-coaster's support beams. It was probably thick enough to handle it and, by his calculations, it was unnecessary, anyway. Just an extra beam to make visitors feel safer. He grabbed onto it, squeezing with all he had, crushing the metal in his hand. It was amazing, the feeling.

Of course, in his line of work, with his personality, how could that feeling ever last? His mind took over. His emotions, like, empathy… Guilt...

Was that really it? What would May do? How would she handle it? What about Ned? What about all the people he would have helped on patrols? It was all fading away. Every word he'd say, song he'd listen to, person he'd save… All of it. Tears started to flow down his pale cheeks as his spidey-senses screamed at him to fix the problems throughout his body. His breaths became more uneven and faster. His panicked state was tearing him up, physically and mentally. His mind was running far too fast through everything he'd never get to do. His wounds didn't exactly appreciate the panic, either. With all of the hyperventilation, it jostled his wounds, making their protest intensify.

That's what it was… A taste of being a real superhero. It-it kinda sucked.

:::::::

"I'm gonna go check on the kid," Tony hovered above the wreckage, eyeing Toomes being carried away on the gurney. He kept the note Peter had written in his iron hand, laughing when he took another look at it. "This kid."

Happy wrote things down on his clipboard, taking inventory of the things broken or lost. He took over management of Damage Control on the site.

Tony looked around as he flew higher up in the air. When he didn't spot the teen, he spoke up to the AI, "Friday, call Peter's phone."

"Yes, sir." The suit rang. And rang. And rang… far too many times for Tony's liking. Peter was fine. The kid could stop a bus with his bare hands. He could obviously handle Toomes. Could he? Yeah. Of course, what a ridiculous question. He absolutely could! But he still needed to check on him.

"Track his home-made suit." If Peter found out he had that tracker installed, he'd be pissed. But he's Tony Stark. He can convince him not to be mad.

"Right away." She hummed, something Tony would have to program her not to do when he was freaked out. "He is close by. He seems to be under 'The Cyclone', approximately two hundred and fifty feet away."

"Thanks, Friday," He started his flight to Peter's location, brows coming down in a state of confusion, "Wait… Why is he under it? Why's he there at all? Why didn't he just go home or to his best friend's house?" The gears started turning, emotions running wild, in that moment. Why wouldn't the kid go home? Why would he stay when he knew Tony would check on the wreckage? He'd left a note so the father-figure would surely know he was there. That, and the kid was too damn stubborn to stay away from Toomes. He always had to do the right thing, even if it could get him killed. So mature and heroic. It made Tony sick to think about. He didn't deserve to be anything but a kid. Not a hero. A kid.

When he got to the dot in his helmet's interface, he started fully panicking when he saw the teen coughing up blood. He flew even faster to where Peter lay on the ground, chest heaving.

"Peter!" He dropped out of the suit before it even came to a complete stop, rushing out to kneel next to him. He called out to the AI in the idle-flying suit, "Friday, call the med team! Get them here, _now_!" He brought Peter up into his arms, heart racing.

"The team will arrive shortly." Her voice was too cheery in that moment. He'd have to fix that.

He sat in a crisscross position, pulling Peter into his lap, putting the mask back on him. The med team didn't need to know his identity. He wouldn't want that. Tony started to examine the teen. He ran his hand along the young hero's shoulder.

"Shit. Friday, tell the med team he has a dislocated shoulder. His breathing's off, tell them that, too." His panic grew as he continued to list all of his findings. It only got worse once he remembered he wasn't a doctor and he, most-likely, wasn't finding all of the injuries. He had had no idea what was going on inside the kid's body, either. He could be bleeding internally or something. His powers may react to something from inside the crates. His hands were burned and they could get infected. Lord _knows_ what could have happened to the kid! Internal bleeding was very likely, seeing the way Peter's body was reacting. Tony had seen it before in a battle with the Avengers, once. Poor Clint. Guy always drew the short straw.

Right as the thought came to mind, Peter's body started shaking, blood coming from his mouth with every cough it produced. This wasn't happening. This kid wasn't dying in his arms, not now, not _ever_. He wasn't about to go tell May he let her nephew die. Uh-uh. Tony lay Peter on his side, kneeling next to the young spider, bringing him into recovery position.

"Med team arriving in three. Two. One." Friday chirped. As she did, a large armored-truck looking van rolled up, parking next to the roller-coaster with the words 'Stark Industries: Resource' on the side. Multiple men and women got out, running towards the two. They ran out with a gurney, cutting down the small fence and maneuvering through the support beams under the ride. It was only then when Tony saw the crushed beam Peter had grabbed onto.

Sweet Christmas, the kid destroyed the thing. Tony couldn't even figure out if that's how much pain he was in or if he was just that strong. He settled on both because one without the other wouldn't have produced that much wreckage.

A woman came down to her haunches, assessing the damage Peter had taken in the fight.

"You can't take his mask off. He-he needs to be Spider-Man. He needs to stay that way, you understand?" Tony ignored his harsh tone, not bothering to think about a later apology. It didn't matter. All that mattered was Peter. The most important thing was getting him back to May all better.

"We can't make any promises, Mr. Stark, but we'll do everything we can. We may need to take it off to help him. And it's not my first rodeo with supers," The medics brought him up onto the gurney- not without a moaning protest from the young hero- and started to roll him away, keeping Tony back. They left the one, dark and beautiful medic, assuring him they'd do everything they could to save him, even promising she'd bring in Dr. Banner. "We understand the height of the situation, and we'll, of course, make it our priority after Spider-Man's well-being, but you've gotta understand that there's things we just can't do. This is my number. Call it when you want updates, okay? I'll have someone let you know, because I've got a certain devil I have to patch up."

"You're not staying with him?" Tony stepped forward before she had the chance to walk away.

She slipped her gloves off, wadding them up in her hands. "My friend needs help, too. He's blind… He's also stubborn so he needs extra help. Look, I'll be back with him, tonight. I'll stay with him all night if you want."

Tony nodded, letting her move on.

/

Peter was conscious enough to know what was going on. The movement on the stretcher jostled his wounds, making him cry out. He and Mr. Stark weren't so close, yet. Yet was a hopeful word. Regardless, he needed someone he trusted to be there. He didn't know any of those medics. He knew, reasonably, he could trust them. If Tony did enough to let them take him, he could. But… everything hurt and he wanted May. Next best thing?

"Mr. Stark!" His voice was broken, much like everyone's hearts at the strangulation in his vocal chords. He reached out with a weak hand towards his mentor.

/

"You'll be okay, kid! They'll take good care of you and you're gonna meet the Hulk!" There was no way he was gonna watch what they'd have to do to him. He wasn't about to listen to the screams as they set his arm back in its socket. Absolutely not. It was so damn frustrating, the selfishness. How could he be thinking of how he'd feel when Underoos was in that situation because of him? Yeah, he was stupid and didn't call but… Wait… He did... He was always calling and Tony basically ignored him. All he did was call the FBI instead of helping Peter become a better hero by trying to tell him how to take these guys down. He took the suit! The guilt started to eat him up before-

"It's not your fault," Rhodey stepped up behind Tony, a gentle and comforting hand coming to the mechanic's shoulder. "I know that's what you're thinking, so stop."

"I took the suit, Rhodey."

"So? Kid did something stupid. You needed to let him know that. He'll get killed if he keeps acting the way he is. You gotta think about it, Stank."

Tony huffed out of his nose, a silent laughter. "It's just… I took him to Germany, brought him into a fight against a bunch of better-trained-than-him Avengers and then dropped him off at home and ignored him. That's why he did this alone."

"How could you? How dare you make a mistake like every other parent-" The two stared at each other. " _Human being_... on planet Earth?!" Rhodey's sarcastic, dramatic tone made Tony so angry. He wanted to laugh cus it was funny, but he was trying to be upset. You're not supposed to laugh when you're upset, dammit.

"Rhodes-"

"Ah, fuck it. Every parent makes mistakes. If you're becoming a parent to him, if you haven't already, then you need to know that. Sure, there's a million books and blogs and articles on how to properly raise a kid and someone's had to've written a book about how to be the best hero you can be, but, Tony, it doesn't matter what they say. Things don't always go the way we want them to."

"And I should have taught him that. I should have taught him how to work like us, to fight like us."

"Shoulda, woulda, coulda, am I right?" Rhodey snorted at the statement. "Seriously, though, man. You can't rewrite the past, no matter how much people try. It happened. Learn from it. Fix the future. When the kid recovers, teach him. Do all the things you say you should have done in the first place. Apologize, too."

"I have a suit for him. I'm gonna announce a new member of the Avengers. I'll get a bunch of reporters. Real ones, not bloggers."

"If you say that one more time…"

"Bloggers aren't real reporters!"

"Nobody's a real reporter, anymore, Stank! Just- ugh- just forget it. That sounds like a great idea. You can put him next to Vis. That'll be fun."

"Guess it will. Let's get to the med bay before they move everything else out. Compound med bay isn't ready, yet."

"I'll be right behind you."

"I just… stay outside when we get there? I need time with him. For everything."

Rhodey silently nodded, smiling. The two got into their suits, flying for Avengers Tower for what would probably be the last time.

:::::::

Bruce stopped Tony and Happy before going into Peter's bay room. He sat the two down at a table in the waiting area, interlocking his fingers, placing his hands on the table's surface.

"He was… He fought this Vulture guy with enough wounds to make any Avenger tap out. This kid's either tough, stubborn or some crazy mixture of both," Bruce opened the medical file, his chart inside. "I won't go into much detail or show any photos, but his list was extensive. Tony, you already know he was coughing up blood."

Tony nodded, wincing at the playback in his head of the events.

"He had third degree burns on his hands which will heal up fine, given his healing factor. He had some wounds I'm assuming were from the claws in his stomach, back and chest. He had five broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, a pneumothorax and deep lacerations on his hands. I did a small test on his healing factor. He should be fully healed within two to three weeks."

Tony brought a hand to his eyes. Geez. How did it come to this, Peter?

"Tony, a normal person would take months. Kid's lucky."

Ha. Lucky? Right. He got thrown around, stabbed, and overall mauled by this guy and he's 'lucky'. What a life they led.

:::::::

Peter had slowly come back to consciousness, head lolling on the pillow on his gurney. His fists balled as his knuckles turned white. The paramedic's hands motioned over the young hero, ready to act, yet not ready to make contact. "Hey, kid, calm down."

He just couldn't. His coughing caused his straining lungs to burn. His hyperventilation didn't help the pneumothorax that was starting to develop. His senses made him feel every bit of it. He struggled, pushing anyone and anything away. He hyperventilated, broken ribs rubbing together, bringing a knot of nausea into his throat.

His fighting caused Bruce to do something he visibly didn't want to do. The doctor brought out Cap's reinforced restraints, locking Peter down, creating an even larger panic situation. The spider struggled even more, crying out despite how much it hurt. His lungs burned with the sheer force of his screams.

He then became still, eyes wide and glassy. The pain his dislocated arm brought from the struggling fit took over his senses. The restraints had pulled at his shoulder, sending a deep throbbing though the joint. He wanted to move. To scream. To cry. Everything was too much. The sensory overload was nearly unbearable. The lights in the, sorta-armored-truck were too f- May doesn't let him say that... _freaking_ bright!

He needed to scream. He had to let it out. His screams were clouded with the tightness in his chest, panic rising and sweat adding to warm discomfort as his whole homemade-suit felt wet. He couldn't distinguish whether or not the damn liquid pooling from his pores was sweat or blood. And if he were completely honest, he didn't really care.

Struggling was impossible… that was… until Bruce took hold of his dislocated arm. Peter wasn't about to let the doctor hurt him. No way! He tried to pull his arm out of the unsolicited hold, at first, until the pain barreled throughout his entire body. He went completely still, again, squeezing his eyes shut and curled his lips in, turning them white, deciding to let Bruce do what he would. It was the Hulk, after all.

Consciously, he knew they were only trying to help him, but, his instincts were screaming at him to get out, to protect himself. He settled for allowing his good hand grab onto the little piece of the gurney he could catch. He squeezed as hard as he could, silently nodding.

/

Bruce looked up, seeing the movement in his peripheral vision. He was going to do it, anyway, without the kid's permission, but he was being so brave. It was impressive.

/

Peter braced for the pain. His breaths came quick and ragged but he knew there was nothing he could do. If he struggled, the pain became too much to bear, but if he did nothing, he was going to be hurt. As if he weren't already…

Bruce gave a quick and quiet apology before ripping off the bandaid. He half-stood, with all of his strength, forcing the arm back into the socket. Peter paused. Not a sound. No scream. No reaction?

Bruce slid to the edge of his seat, looking at the teen. He placed a hand over his wrist. Peter's veins thumped under the doctor's fingertips.

BOOM! Something flew through the truck, hitting the wall of the truck right next to Bruce's head, sticking in the metal wall. Wide eyed, the doctor slowly turned his head to see the pole from the gurney Peter had grabbed onto moments before.

"Geez, Tony, who is this kid?"

Peter was thrashing, screaming, sobbing. He fought with such force, the truck was swaying on the road. He could hear muffled noises through his delirium, but it didn't process. It was all just too much.

Bruce yelled at Peter, trying to get him to calm, trying to convince him to stop before he ran the mother… the bus off the road, but it was pointless. He reached for a large needle in an emergency box on the wall. He pressed on the bottom, allowing the air to escape the needle.

"Hold him down," The medics looked to the pole in the wall then back to Bruce, a panicked, confused look. "Just do what you can."

They put all of their weight on top of him, not doing too much. Luckily, for literally everyone, they were able to barely still Peter's arm enough to allow Bruce to get the needle in. The super-human-sedative made for Cap didn't do too much, but it calmed Underoos.

"Damn powers. Different chemical complex," Bruce crossed his arms as Peter's movements ceased, allowing him to sit relatively still. He weakly pulled at his restraints. Peter's mind was melting and he hated it. He was now in an unfamiliar situation without his full capacities. It was hell for a person as intelligent as he was.

:::::::

Tony stood outside Peter's door, Rhodey and Bruce behind him. He let out a deep breath, hoping the kid wasn't awake. He scoffed at the thought. Was that fair? To hope Peter wasn't awake so he didn't see how much he truly cared? Probably not, but, then again, emotions aren't exactly his strong suit and he was sure if Peter knew, then it'd involve emotions so…

He grabbed the door handle with a shaky hand. When he steadied his grip, he started to turn the knob before he heard the most gut-wrenching sound he'd ever heard in his entire life.

Peter screamed, a wet sob escaping right after as if the two were connected. Hell, maybe they were. Tony hesitated. Should he go in? Right! Stupid question, yeah, he should make sure the kid's okay! He burst through the door, skidding to a halt when he took in the sight of his protege.

Peter lay on his back, sobbing in his sleep. That-that'd be a sight that'd haunt Tony for a good while. He knew that, one hundred percent. He rushed up to stand next to the bed before Peter's eyes snapped open. He flinched, seeing the world-famous Iron Man standing next to him.

"Underoos… May's out. She let me in."

Peter sat up, staring at the floor. "Mr. Stark… I-I'm sorry."

"You messed up," Tony held the arrogant facade. "It happens to the best of us. I'd know."

Peter let out a small laugh. "Right. Thanks."

Tony started to leave the room before he turned back, holding the door open. "I'll be in touch. Or… Happy will be in touch."

"Okay. Thanks, Mr. Stark."

Tony assumed Peter had no idea he heard his screams. He was going to keep it that way. For now. "May said she'd be back soon. Not too long. Have a great weekend."

"Yeah, you too."

Tony left the awkward situation as is, excited to reveal the new suit to Peter and Spider-Man to the world, no longer allowing this incredibly wholesome, honest, brave and overall amazing hero to stop being a no name. Hopefully, nothing would go wrong with that press conference. The kid would probably say something stupid. Maybe he won't let him talk yet… Yeah, good idea.

Tony laughed as he got into the idle flying suit. "He really is a good kid."

Friday chimed in, her beautiful voice filling the suit's speakers. "Yes, sir."


End file.
